Reminiscing
by the ticking clock
Summary: Sometimes Damon forgets that this wild vampire is his little brother. One-shot. Spoilers for 4x15 "Stand By Me"


They stand on Elena's porch, across from each other. Stefan is restlessly pacing, hands shoved deep into his pockets. To Damon's ears, the silence hurts more than Elena's heartbroken screams. It hisses and burns and tears at him, the small whispers of _her humanity's gone, her humanity's gone..._

"It was a mistake," Stefan finally says, turning his latest circle so they are facing each other.

Damon throws up his hands, but not in an exasperated gesture. His emotions are strangely drained, now. All he feels is a strange, aching emptiness, a sadness more profound than he has felt in a long time. It's oddly calming. "It wasn't, and you know it."

Seeing Stefan's pinched expression, he tacks on, "This is the only way she's gonna survive."

Stefan looks down and away.

"We'll help her," Damon says, and is almost surprised by the earnest, almost pleading tone to his voice. "We'll keep an eye on her, and when she's ready I'll use the sire bond and turn it back on."

His brother's lip lifts in a slight snarl. "Her humanity, Damon, that was all she had left."

Of course. Stefan's ever present desire for his Elena to be _human. _In some ways, Damon had understand that. Now, he thinks he even sympathizes with his brother. He's a little apprehensive about this emotionless, cold vampire who had suddenly looked so much like Katherine it had sent a shiver down his spine.

"Humanity," Damon makes the word a soft growl and steps up so he and Stefan are eye to eye, toe to toe, "means nothing when you don't have anyone to care about, Stefan."

The words feel strangely heavy and weighted on his tongue, and he realizes that maybe he isn't really talking about Elena anymore. There is something personal behind those words, distant memories of wild night feeding and snarling and killing-hating himself, hating his brother.

Stefan nods, slowly. He can sense the double meaning, Damon sees. Sees it in the surprising gentleness of his brother's next words, "She had you."

_No...no, that wasn't it at all. _

Damon shakes his head. "She lost her brother," He whispers, noticing, but not mentioning, Stefan's hard swallow. "I'm not enough." His throat burns suddenly, and not with hunger, or blood-thirst. "Not this time."

Stefan nods, again, sighing a little. "Listen, Damon, uh, I know you and I have been through some bad spots lately, especially when it comes to her..."

"Yeah, well," Damon says, and the burning is defintly there now, fierce and sharp, making his voice hoarse. He blinks. "I guess none of that really matters anymore."

Stefan shifts his weight a little awkwardly, raises a hand, drops it down to his knee. "I just, I want you to know-" his voice breaks, a little. He drops his eyes.

Damon stares at him. Sometimes he forgets that this wild, ripper vampire is his little brother. That this man who he'd fought, hated and hurt, had once been the small boy who had gripped Damon's hand so very _tight _as he took his first stumbling steps. That this was the brother who had wrestled and chased him around the grounds of their house, who had cried when Damon had gone off to war, who had embraced him so tightly when he returned that Damon had thought his ribs would shatter. That this was the sweet, carefree boy who Damon had once had to reprimand for being to wild at dinner. He sometimes forgot to look past the vampire, look past all that the brother had done, and see the boy underneath. See his weakness, his terror...his best friend.

Standing before him now, with tears brightening his eyes and drying along his cheek, with his lips pressed tightly together, unable to get the words out, unable to _say it-_

But he doesn't need to. Stefan has never really needed to say anything. Because Damon can just look at him and _know. _Look at his tense shoulders and trembling hands, the slight tilt to his head that always meant he was about something. He can read his little brother like an open book.

Isn't that what family is about, anyway? Knowing each other like you know no one else?

"I know, Stefan," he says, softly, and reaches up to clap his brother's shoulder.

Stefan ducks his head, and Damon catches a glimpse of the young boy again. Vulnerable and sad. Out of some instinct he digs his fingers in harder, squeezing. "I know."

Stefan looks up at him, swallows hard. For less than a second their gazes lock, hold.

Damon tilts his head in the slightest of nods, blinks. He knows that he doesn't need to say anything more.

Eventually Stefan shrugs a little, gently knocking Damon's hand off his shoulder. He shoves his hands back into his pockets turns to the house.

Damon follows more slowly, simply watching for a few seconds. He sees his little brother again, when Stefan lifts his head and sees Elena holding the cracked picture of her and Jeremy, face perfectly blank.

And as much as the sadness aches in him for Elena's suffering, as much as Damon wishes that none of this had happened, he's glad to have caught a glimpse of his brother again.

It's been to long since they've seen each other, _really _seen each other, and Damon can truly appreciate those moments now.

Sighing, a little, Damon ducks his head, and follows his brother into Elena's house.

_Now I'm stuck fighting with my brother and taking care of the kids, _he had complained to Alaric a few weeks ago(It felt like years). He had been so angry then. So hurt and sad and furious. Stefan had seemed like an immature child to him. Odd, that now he is catching glimpses of his young brother in this time of sadness, and he appreciates him. Appreciates the "kid" Stefan, the one who goes to him for comfort when all else is lost.

_ Taking care of the kids. _

Strangely, he doesn't really mind that anymore.


End file.
